Through A Mirror Darkly
by Wedjatqi
Summary: A team from another reality appear in Atlantis, all familiar faces, but different in ways that Teyla finds unnerving… Inspired by the episode 'The Daedalus Variations' JT.


**Rating**: **M**

**Disclaimers**: I own no part of the Stargate world, I make no money from this and I wish that I could make money from having such fun.

**WARNING: **Contains references to mature scenes – don't want to give too much away, but be warned that this angle of JT might not be everyone's cup of tea!

**Note: **Continuing on with my re-evaluation of Season 5 of SGA, this is my fic inspired by episode 4 – The Daedalus Variations. So, initially I didn't know what to write for this episode, but then after re-watching the episode and a rather dark Antonio Banderas movie I saw the other day…this arrived, no doubt influenced by having watched so much Star Trek over the years!. It's a rather different track than I usually take, so I thought I would run with it and see… PLEASE be aware of the warning and rating attached to this fic.

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It was hardly the first time Teyla had met alternate versions of her teammates, but there was something very different about this meeting than those before.

There was something unnerving about them - a raw unpredictability that concerned her. Even the way that they moved was different to those she knew, for it seemed to her that they moved with a more predatory attitude that when any of the five strong team fixed their attention on her made her uncomfortable. Yet, they were polite enough, with no sign of anything suspicious about them, yet she found herself keeping some distance from them.

Seeing Aiden again had been a shock, though in many ways, the way he appeared here was more similar to how he had been after he had been changed by the Wraith enzyme. His eyes were always assessing as if he expected an attack from any direction at any moment. The alternate Lorne was quiet, yet held a heavily weighted superior gaze that rarely rested on anyone for very long. Beside him, the other Ronon was the most similar to the one she knew, though he appeared less relaxed than her own version, as he had been when he had first joined Atlantis after his long years as a runner. The alternate Rodney was a sullen, difficult man, with an even greater level of arrogance than her own Rodney. The two versions of the same man had been arguing since they had met.

The last team member was an alternate version of John. He too looked different, and in many ways he was the one that unnerved her the most. Since he had first met her, his eyes had locked onto her with a narrowed gaze that felt challenging for no reason that she could understand. He walked alongside her now, the stride of his walk different and forcing her to walk a half step faster than normal to keep up with him.

She glanced up at him, feeling like he was towering over her far more than her own version of him. His hair was slightly longer, curling down the back of his neck and falling over his forehead. He looked as if he had not shaved for days, but she suspected it was by choice, since all the others of his team had the same studied roughness to them. There was a thin scar running down his right cheek, faint and only noticeable now that she was looking at his profile so intently.

His expression shifted and she knew he was aware of her close scrutiny, but he waited a beat before he looked round at her. His eyes were the same as she knew, yet they were full of a rather uncomfortable humour as he smiled at her. It wasn't a nice smile to fill the moment as her version of John would do, no this John's sparkling eyes held something quite different. As she glanced aside as casually as she could, she realised that he was amused by her discomfort and that was something that was very unlike the John Sheppard she knew. She looked back up at him, making sure her confidence showed and that she was not so easily intimidated.

One side of his lips shifted in a part smile that was far too like a sneer for her liking. She looked away before she saw any more. There was a job to do and then these alternate versions would leave.

The open doorway to Rodney's lab came into view ahead and she focused on getting there quickly, unnerved despite there being two guards accompanying her with this John down to the lab.

Already she could hear the raised voices from inside, and as she led the way into the lab, she heard the arguing voices shifting into true anger. The two guards on duty at the lab were no longer at the door, but inside physically working to break apart the two versions of Rodney from their aggressive shoving match.

"What is going on here?" She demanded loudly, catching everyone's attention.

The two Rodney's looked round, one with a far more sheepish expression than the other.

"Nothing," her Rodney replied as he rolled his shoulder, returning his jacket back into place from its dishevelled shape.

"McKay?" The alternate John asked, his tone more amused, as if this were normal behaviour and perhaps it was.

"I've repaired the device," the other McKay reported with an exasperated tone, gesturing to the brightly glowing portable alternate reality transport device sitting on the table before the two Rodneys.

"_You_ did?" Rodney demanded with clear resentment. "If it wasn't for me…"

"Rodney," Teyla interrupted his potential tirade and he glanced at her with a look that was apologetic, yet she could see that he was seriously still seething over whatever his argument had been about. Teyla gave him a look through which she hoped to communicate him to be calm and patient. He understood her silent point for he nodded and partly rolled his eyes, yet as he glanced at his double beside him, Teyla could see something new in his eyes. He too was unnerved by the other McKay, more so than with other versions of himself that he had met before.

"The device is repaired, we just need to hook it into the city's computer and reboot its systems, then we're good to go," the other McKay reported to the other John.

"Good," John replied. "Get it upstairs then," he ordered.

McKay's eyes narrowed. "You know I can't carry it," he protested.

"Of course," John replied with heavy sarcasm. "Since you got shot in the ass. Two years ago."

There was clear challenge in McKay's expression now. "You want to see my doctor's note again?"

"No," John replied. "I've got it memorised."

Teyla glanced up at John, seeing the same amused annoyance in dealing with Rodney that her John displayed frequently. These were still the same men that she knew, with the same basic characters, just slightly nastier than in her reality. She very much wanted them gone, to leave her with the versions that she far preferred.

Teyla glanced to the two lab guards. "Please can you take the device up to the Control Room for Doctor Mckay, s," she corrected herself and the guards nodded, one heading over to the device sat on the table.

The two Rodney's watched him pick it up.

"Careful!"

"Careful!" They both ordered at the same time with the exact same pitch. The guard still ignored the double comment as he lifted the device and carried it away towards the exit. The two Rodney's hurried around different ends of the table to follow.

"McKay, your case," John called over his shoulder as his McKay passed him.

"Sciatica, remember," came the only reply retreating down the corridor outside.

Teyla glanced down at the open case set on the floor near the table, tools and small electronic pieces scattered around it. The other John exhaled loudly and headed towards it.

"I don't know why I bother keeping him around," he muttered, far more like the John she knew.

"I am sure that your McKay is as valuable as ours," Teyla offered, trying to be polite despite her feelings.

John reached for several tools scattered over the table and glanced at her as he did. That dark gaze was again filled with amusement.

"Don't remind him of that, okay?" He asked as gathered McKay's tools.

Teyla tried to smile in reply, but it was a strain and John kept his eyes on her for a beat longer than her version would, and she got the impression that he was fully aware of her discomfort. He looked away and crouched down over the open case. His back was turned to her and she could not see the case anymore, only hear him pressing tools back into it. Her instincts, born of far too many dangerous situations, stirred at not being able to see what he was doing clearly. She moved a little further into the lab, hoping to make it look like she was simply checking the table herself for any left over tools.

The two guards were back at the door, outside in the corridor, in sight, but some distance. Her instincts told her to be careful, but she moved further forward, keeping her hands relaxed at her sides, close to her sidearm. From here, she could now see around his right shoulder enough to see that he was indeed simply setting the tools back into their precisely formed places in the case.

She watched him work, her eyes drawn to the strong hands, seeing further signs of a hard life. His arms were fully bare, right up to his shoulder blades, and as he reached for another tool she could see much of his upper back. Her eyes were drawn to a raised narrow scar over his right shoulder blade. It had been a deep wound, and surely must have taken some time to heal properly. His shoulder shifted and she looked up to see that he was looking at her over his shoulder. His eyes dropped to his own shoulder and then back up to her, fully aware of where she had been staring. A little embarrassed at her behaviour she endeavoured to make conversation.

"That must have been a deep wound," she offered nodding her head towards the scar.

He actually smiled at that, a proper sparkling eye smile that was more familiar to her. "You could say that," he replied as he turned back to his work.

Once again she was left feeling off balance by him and the strange silence that appeared.

"What happened?" She asked.

"A knife," he replied jokingly.

"A Wraith?" She asked trying to keep the conversation flowing.

"No," he replied and then looked back over his shoulder at her. "You did it."

She felt a cold shiver with that shock. Firstly, she was shocked to think that she would harm John, in any reality. Secondly, it occurred to her that her friendship with John in this reality may not necessarily be the same in another. She found herself recalling how this John had reacted to seeing her for the first time. Were he and the other Teyla enemies? And more importantly at this precise moment – would he hold a grudge against her as well?

She was starkly aware of her distance from the open door where the guards stood outside.

John was only a metre or so away from her. If he chose to attack her, he would reach her before she could move away. She would have to fight him.

She met his eyes, but saw only that same amusement again. It was not the expression of one looking for a moment of weakness in which to attack her, she hoped. He looked away from her back down to the case again, and she felt herself relax slightly, only to find herself now greatly annoyed with him. Had he done that on purpose to throw her off balance? Was he playing with her?

"We are enemies then?" She asked him bluntly. "In your reality," she added making her voice lighter.

"No," he chuckled as he set the second moulded layer into the case. "We're definitely not enemies," he said his voice deep and warm with amusement.

He looked back over his shoulder at her and this time his expression was very different. The expression was one of frank familiarity that alluded to a far more intimate connection than she had shared with her John.

"You like to mark what's yours," he added more quietly, and that dark challenging quality she had felt from him before was now forefront.

She dropped her eyes back down to the thin deep scar across his shoulder blade.

She felt an abrupt revulsion at the thought of a version of her doing that to him, of cutting his back. Yet, the implication of the connection between this John and that other Teyla made her feel something else entirely.

She looked away, feeling desperately uncomfortable.

He could be lying to her, baiting her, which would perhaps be in keeping with his personality that she had seen so far.

She glanced back to him, to the scar, only for him to stand and turn to her. The case was closed and in his hand. She resisted the temptation to move further away from him. She also worked to resist the sudden temptation to let her eyes fall to the shapely muscular form of his bare arms, one arm tensed as he carried the heavy tool case.

Thrown off again, she turned to the exit to lead the way out, moving towards the open doorway quicker than she intended. He followed behind her, and, strangely, she realised that she no longer felt unnerved at turning her back to him. She turned in the doorway though, forcing her expression into blankness, as she waited for him to pass her out into the corridor first. He was playing a game with her, one that clearly this version of John enjoyed, and perhaps her alternate version did as well, but she did not. She would not allow him to bait her and attempt to throw her so far from her centre.

He reached the doorway and moved through it past her, passing by her far closer than was necessary. She resisted the urge again to back away from him, feeling the sexual challenge behind his nearness.

He paused by her and she looked up at his face finally. He looked down at her with a far lighter expression than ever before and so like what she was used to seeing from her John.

"It's completely mutual, if that makes you feel any better," he told her.

She wasn't sure that it did.

His eyes dropped from hers and slid down her throat to the open neck of her jacket. His blunt appraisal was another shock, never before given so frankly. He leant towards her a fraction, his gaze fully directed down at her cleavage, and he lifted his eyes back up to meet hers. The hooded look from under his brow was far too close to one she had seen before, from that day in the gym many years ago. John had looked at her this way before, with dark eyes and parted lips.

The exposed skin of her neck and chest tingled, not with revulsion now, but with a far more powerful internally driven cause. His eyes dropped back down to her chest, and she felt intensely aware of her breasts. Her body felt warm and she could feel her nipples grazing against her shirt, making her desperately glad that her jacket covered her reaction from him.

He looked back up at her, his gaze meeting hers and she could see his arousal in his eyes very clearly this time. He smiled at her, that crooked grin that she was so familiar with, but never given with this intention behind it before.

"We're so good together, you know," he whispered to her, his gaze dropping to her lips.

She drew in a rather shaky breath, her lips feeling full and acutely sensitive. They felt dry and she wanting to lick them damp, but felt that it would be far too much of an invitation for him. The temptation rose though, and she bit against the inside of her lower lip to stop herself.

The air between them felt far warmer than before and his very familiar scent seemed stronger around her. She glanced down to the open collar of his dark shirt, the neckline far lower than her John wore. She could see the toned shape of his upper chest clearly, and the first touches of chest hair. As he breathed in, she watched that patch of his skin as his chest expanded with his breath. She bit her lip tighter and tasted blood on her tongue.

She lifted her eyes from his chest, catching herself, looking up to his face again, shocked at herself.

He winked at her and moved away into the hallway.

As if released from tight tension she let out a breath and leant back against the doorframe just behind her, as she watched him move down the corridor outside. One guard was already ahead of him, but the other remained closer, one questioning eyebrow raised towards her. She schooled herself, standing away from the door frame and she inclined her head for him to follow the other John and guard. He nodded and turned away.

With no one watching, she licked her dry lips and let out a long steadying breath. Re-centred somewhat she stepped into the corridor, looking down the long hallway at the other John's back. He strode forward with a confidence and assurance that her John rarely did. He turned slightly, looking back over his shoulder at her again. She resented the smug knowing look he sent back towards her and as he looked away again her eyes fell to his right shoulder blade.

The shock returned and with it a new uncomfortable image formed in her mind. John kneeling before, his back bared completely, and looking over his shoulder up at her as he had in the lab. She shook her head, looking away from his retreating shape. She was not a woman who enjoyed such things – to dominate, to cause pain and enjoy blood. She could never imagine herself hurting anyone that way, and especially not John.

Yet, that image of him lingered, perhaps playing on more familiar desires of her own now. She fixed her attention on the wall across from her, John and the guards' footsteps echoing down the empty corridor, moving away from her.

She had believed for so long that there was nothing in John's smiles other than friendship and enjoyment of her company and opinion, despite her own fantasies. Fantasies which she ignored and pretended to herself no longer existed, yet…

The boot steps in the distance died away, leaving her alone in the hallway, her body cooler, yet a sharp new knowing had been born that could not be denied.

"_We're so good together, you know"_ his words replayed. She had seen the enjoyment in his eyes as he had said that, the memories he had been recalling of which she did not wish to know the details, yet that they existed at all….

No, she did not enjoy such sexual satisfactions as he had implied enjoying with that other version of her, but she had her own fantasies, that now felt driven. Let loose to play in her mind in a way that she had never allowed them before.

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THE END


End file.
